


let's go out

by Snowsheba



Series: thanks, dad. love, hana [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: @blizz: let it be so, Gen, there is chocolate and there is a pair of besties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 06:37:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8479063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowsheba/pseuds/Snowsheba
Summary: barid-bel-medar asked: I'm curious, how badly was Gabriel sulking post DVa rescue over the fact that Jack was ignoring him in favor of taking care of Hana? Like, he didn't even really go to engage, just got Hana and got out of there.
  
    (takes place immediately after chapter 61 of thanks, dad. love, hana)





	

It’s a bad mission from start to finish.

That’s really all there is to it, Widowmaker thinks, running the cloth down the barrel of her rifle. She had had a grand total of five seconds to line up a shot before the large knight’s shield had gone up, protecting everyone from her bullets, and she when had darted some distance away to try and flank, one of Overwatch’s snipers had gotten her in the meat of her thigh instead. 

And then, to make matters worse, she’d just brushed the bullet away - it wasn’t sleep serum, thankfully, but it stung and would leave a bruise, if nothing else - and who but _Tracer_ had appeared before her, lips pulled back into a snarl, snapping out a cocky _missed me, love?_ before kicking her square in the face.

Her jaw is still sore. At least she didn’t lose any teeth, and she’s just reached up to gently massage her cheek when the hair on the back of her neck rises, prickling and uneasy. She grimaces, giving one last forlorn glance at her sniper rifle before setting it and polishing cloth aside; by the time Reaper has solidified in her living space, she’s pulled on a sweater and has grabbed a piece from the emergency stash of chocolate she keeps beside her bunk.

“Eat,” she says, practically throwing the white truffle at his face. It hits his mask, but he manages to catch it in a gloved hand. “Then talk.”

She knows it was bad by the way he reaches up under his mask to place the chocolate into his mouth - it’s too precise, too focused, too efficient to be anything but rage, and she puts her hands on his shoulders and steers him to the bunk opposite hers. She lives in the barracks, sure, but there isn’t anyone brave enough to sleep in the same room, so the whole place is empty and perfect for a chat like this.

“I hate this,” Reaper grinds out as he sits, looping one leg over the other, hands folded across his chest as he leans against the wall.

“What happened?” she asks. A quick examination doesn’t show any visible injuries; if anything else, Reaper looks untouched.

“You tell me,” Reaper says, voice rasping and low. He still sounds angry, but he also sounds tired, and Widowmaker seats herself across from him, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “What the hell happened there?”

“You knew we were not prepared, but you insisted we remain there,” Widowmaker points out, slightly bemused. “In terms of elite agents, we were outnumbered ten to one, if not more. You were aware of the risks going in, yet you decided on this course of action anyway.” At his silence, she raises an eyebrow and says, “I think you owe _me_ an explanation, _mon cher._ Not the other way around.”

He grunts at that. Widowmaker considers him with a tilt of her head, sees him slouch and his hands loosen on his lap, and sighs lightly as she reaches out to pick out another piece of chocolate and toss it in his direction. She’ll have to restock soon as she watches him unwrap it, and with that in mind she takes one for herself as well.

“I expected Morrison to drop everything for the girl,” Reaper says.

“He did,” Widowmaker says.

“Yes. The entirety of Overwatch came, as well, which was key.” It’s moments like these that Widowmaker understands why Talon agents give him a wide berth; unless one has known him for years, like she has, Reaper is very hard to read. Right now, she can see that even with being annoyed, he’s also gloating, a little bit. “That left their main base unattended.”

“Gibraltar,” Widowmaker says, faintly remembering soft sea breezes and a man’s laugh bouncing off of flat, smooth surfaces, gone in an instant.

“Yes.”

“That was where Sombra was, I am expecting.”

“Not physically, but indeed.” She gives him a sour look, _obviously_ , and he laughs, grating and dark. “Unfortunately, they have improved Athena’s security and she was not able to get through much, but it was enough. Sooner or later, she should be able to poke around more without detection.”

“You planned all of that in order to get Sombra access to Athena’s files,” Widowmaker says, deadpan, and Reaper laughs again, amused. It’s a bit humorous, if she thinks about it: they lost an entire base of operations, all of the accompanying agents, and effectively got rid of any chance of ever establishing a stronghold in that part of Egypt again for one little thing. It makes sense, in an abstract way - she remembers Reaper’s last disastrous attempt to get into Gibraltar. But he’s not one to be desperate and go to last-ditch efforts; she’s suspicious that there’s more to it than meets the eye.

“It paid off,” Reaper says. He’s still furious. He’s also smug, and Widowmaker can’t quite pinpoint how or why his emotions are so haywire yet focused, and she’s known him for so long that that makes her uneasy.

“So what is the problem?”

Reaper doesn’t answer right away. His posture has relaxed since when he’s first barged into her room, and he doesn’t stir under her piercing stare. 

“It is 76, isn’t it?”

She knows that’s the right answer when Reaper carefully doesn’t react. She lifts a hand to rest her head on her palm, watching as the man across from her cranes his neck back against the wall. 

“What did he do?” Widowmaker asks.

Reaper grunts. “Nothing.”

“You can tell me.”

“I just told you.” His mask shifts so that he’s staring at her. “He did nothing.”

She blinks at him. He is motionless.

“He did not attack you?”

“No.”

“… Did he say anything to you?”

 _Thunk_ , as his head falls back against the wall. “No.”

No wonder he’s pissed off, as she says, “He ignored you, then.”

Reaper doesn’t answer, and she lets out an inward sigh. He’s has always been something of a drama queen, and the fact that 76 slighted him in this way is - brilliant, actually. What better way to get under his skin than by not doing anything at all? She had to give the old soldier some credit for not being a complete idiot blinded by familial love.

… Provided it is familial love. She’d only heard the story secondhand, how 76 had barged into the hospital with very little backup and then sprinted back out with the Korean girl with him. It’s unlikely that it’s anything else, but it’s curious how the powerful bond between them has instantly become a huge advantage Talon plans on exploiting. 

“There will be other times,” she says, because there always is, because she’s worked with Reaper for years and there have always been other times. It’s really more like 76 and Reaper have always made time for each other, in their own fucked-up way, and Widowmaker has always been there to catch Reaper when he falls, as he’s always done for her.

As it is, he doesn’t respond beyond a huff of air. Indignant, mostly, annoyed, and that’s when she gets to her feet, reaching down for her heels.

“Let’s go out,” she tells him, and it’s only when she grabs her sniper rifle to take with her that he laughs and gets to his feet.


End file.
